


Always

by Catchclaw



Series: Now, Again, Always [3]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Affection, Curtain Fic, Duty, Established Relationship, Fear of Rejection, Feelings Realization, M/M, Schmoop, The Force Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:07:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21847072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: When the moment comes, it’s a choice.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Series: Now, Again, Always [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1573126
Comments: 35
Kudos: 353





	1. Chapter 1

When the moment comes, it’s a choice.

The war is nearly over and events are calling them home and yet--and yet, after so many years of wishing it finished, neither of them wants to leave.

 _I’m tired_ , Obi-Wan says against Anakin’s shoulder on the last night before they return. _I don’t know that I’ve ever been so tired in my life._

 _Hmmm._ _What about the time that gundar caught wind of you on Mirandus? You ran two clicks in a heartbeat; I had to carry you back to the ship._

_Carry me? Hardly. As I recall, I permitted you to assist me._

A snort. _Permitted? Ok. That’s why you passed out in my arms._

_If I blacked out, it was only temporarily. I was perfectly capable of--_

Anakin kisses the wet crown of his hair and shifts until their legs are tangled beneath the blanket. _Of drooling in my ear? Yeah, you were really capable of that_.

Obi-Wan nips at Anakin’s throat. _Should I say thank you, again? Were the first hundred times not enough?_

_Not the first hundred or the first thousand, Master._

_Greedy thing, aren’t you?_ He draws his hand down until Anakin sighs, until Anakin arches his back and shows Obi-Wan the fire in his eyes. 

_I thought you were tired_ , he says.

 _I am_ , Obi-Wan says, closing his fist, the truth slipping out where a gentle lie might do. _Of everything in the universe, Anakin, except you._

They find the heights slowly this time, the urgency of the earlier hours sated, and this is what it might be like, Obi-Wan thinks as Anakin moans against his mouth, if they were allowed the luxury of what others took for granted: the illusion of always, of never being parted, of not beyond each other’s handclasp again.

 _Obi-Wan_. His name is steam between Anakin’s teeth. 

_Yes, dear one?_

Their foreheads pressed together; a kick of Anakin’s hips, insensate. _I love you. I love you. Please don’t stop_.

He makes a glorious mess, long sparks of heat between them, and then makes a show of cleaning it up, his eyes locked on Obi-Wan’s face, and when Obi-Wan comes down his throat with a howl, Anakin’s grinning, triumph scrawled across his features as he hums and hums and hums.

 _I don’t want to go home_ , he says later, curled against Obi-Wan’s back. 

_Yes, you do._

_No, I don’t._ Stubborn. _I want to stay out here forever with you._

_Anakin--_

_What you said before, about being sick of everything in the universe except me? That’s how I feel, too._

There’s a coil of something in Obi-Wan’s gut, a strange, scary sort of weight. _We’re both tired, that’s all._ He can hear how forced the words sound. _Once we’re back on Coruscant, with the Council, we won’t feel the same way._

Anakin sighs and tugs him closer, knots their fingers at Obi-Wan’s waist. _Yes, we will,_ he mumbles. _You’ll wish with everything that you have that we were back out here, together. You know it. You’ll see_.

It sounds so simple when Anakin says it, rings true and clear in Obi-Wan’s heart. But it’s not so simple, is it? There is duty and there is responsibility for both of them, to something bigger than themselves.

It will be different when they return, won’t it?

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and wills himself to believe it, to believe again in something more than the man breathing dreams against his neck, the man who surrounds him, confounds him, brings him more joy than he’s ever known in his life. It will be different on Coruscant _,_ surely. It must.

*****

When the moment comes, it’s not a choice, it’s a certainty.

If only Obi-Wan saw it that way.

They’ve been back in the Temple less than two weeks and Anakin is ready to scream. They can’t touch here, not as he wants to, can’t spend stolen hours stretched out in somebody’s bed. Even in their bond, they have to be more careful; in the Temple, the Force has many ears.

Here, in this place, Obi-Wan isn’t his; he’s a Jedi, a master, a teacher. There’s no room for him to be a lover or even, Anakin comes to realize, a friend.

They see each other every day. They talk. He gets to look in Obi-Wan’s eyes. But it’s different looking when everyone’s watching you, and that’s what it feels like--as if half the place is watching their every move.

Two weeks of this hell and it’s making him crazy. He can’t do this for the rest of his life.

He tries to let Obi-Wan have his feelings, tries to push them through their bond, good sense be damned, but Obi-Wan’s mask stays in place, his impeccable manners, the smile he gives everyone. It’s like talking to a damn wall.

 _I need you_ , he tells Obi-Wan one afternoon when they pass each other in the Great Hall. _Obi-Wan, I can’t do this. I need you. I can’t._

Obi-Wan is walking with another master, an Cerean who won’t stop running their mouth. He nods at Anakin as he passes but says nothing. It’s awful. It’s all Anakin can do not to run to him and throw himself at the ground.

He cries in his quarters after, tears flowing fast like a youngling, his face buried deep in hands.

He trudges through the hours feeling dull and tired, he’s so terribly tired. It’s so damn hard to sleep alone.

And then one morning he looks into the mirror and he knows exactly what he has to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Obi-Wan’s quarters are two floors above his. The doors open before he even hits the chime.

 _It’s very early_ , Obi-Wan says, the words as rumpled as his hair. He’s still in bed. The covers are a twisted mess. _I don't suppose this can wait until after breakfast._

He’s trying to pretend that everything’s the same, falling back into the easy banter that they’ve used forever. It’s a good way, Anakin can see now, to talk to each other without really saying anything.

 _No_ , he says, serene. The obedient voice of a padawan. _I’m sorry, Master. It can’t._

_Well. Let’s have it, then._

_I’m leaving._

Obi-Wan blinks. _Oh. Has the Council given you an assignment? I hadn’t heard that they--_

 _No_. That word again, firmer this time. _I’m leaving on my own._

He can see the alarm on Obi-Wan’s face in the same instant that he feels a jolt in their bond. _And where is it that you’re taking yourself, Master Skywalker?_

_I don’t know. Away from here, is all I can figure. Probably somewhere beyond the Rim._

_Beyond the--!_

_Yes. I’ve purchased a small ship; nothing much, but enough room for me and Artoo._

Obi-Wan is on his feet, suddenly, his chest flush, his cheeks. _You’re not leaving the Order, Anakin. Please tell me you’re not._

_I am._

_But there’s so much work to be done, there’s peace to uphold! A peace that we fought very hard for._

He clasps his hands behind his back. _Yeah, we did. And it’s done._

 _You can’t just_ leave, _Anakin. You swore an oath. You made a promise._

 _I know._ Their eyes meet; he juts his chin out like he has a thousand times before in front of his master. _And I’m willing to break it._

 _Then you_ , Obi-Wan Kenobi says, his voice like cracked kyber, _will break me_.

*****  
  


This can’t happen, not now, not ever. Anakin cannot leave him.

 _Then you_ , he says through unshed tears, _will break me._

Anakin's lips pull tight. _Something tells me that you’ll live, Master._

Stars, who is this creature standing in front of him? This man who once wore a boy’s face. There’s such certainty in his eyes, not just defiance, and who knows, exactly, what a man like this will do?

He can’t leave. No. No. He can’t.

How, Obi-Wan thinks, how is it possible that it’s been weeks since he last touched Anakin’s face, since he kissed that slim line of a mouth and drank in the sighs that came in its wake? He’s felt Anakin reaching for him, heard the tenor of his thoughts shift from grief to desperation to--what? To anger?--but Obi-Wan could be stubborn, too, when he thought he was doing right, and surely it was right to slip back on the mantle of master and give Anakin the room he needed, the time, to fully explore his power as a Jedi. 

That’s what duty told him was right, years upon years of training. Never mind what he heard from the Force.

It had never occurred to him before that the two might not be the same.

When he’d managed to sleep, the Force had battered him, dreams tossing him about like a small boat on big seas, and what it had thrown at him was Anakin, again and again:

 _You are his_ , the Force had bellowed in the guise of a whisper. _And you know he is yours._ _Why do you not go to him?_

It was a trick, he’d decided in the moments after, when he lay panting in the darkness. His own desires attempting to manipulate him into believing that it was the Force who’d brought them together, who _wanted_ them together, duty and Jedi be damned.

 _I love you_ , Anakin had once said, his voice breaking with passion, and oh, how Obi-Wan had clung to those words, a golden cord that wound around his heart knotted in the phantom braid he still imagined he saw on Anakin’s shoulder. _I love you I love I love_

And still he had resisted, held tighter to notions of some greater responsibility, when truly, he thinks as Anakin stands before him, stoic, what greater responsibility is there than love?

 _I can’t let you go_ , Obi-Wan says, very quietly.

_It’s not your choice._

_Isn’t it?_ He steps closer, Anakin’s robes brushing the bare skin of his chest. _Come now, dear one. I can’t let you go alone._

He opens his hands and the walls of his mind and into both, Anakin tumbles, and just like that it falls away, the stoic, the control, the mask. The bond is flooded with confusion that blooms into joy and he tips his head back as Anakin reaches for him so he can look up and up and up and see the pleasure dawning there, rosy fingers of heat and the most exquisite light.

_You can’t leave, Master. Can you? I can’t ask you to do that._

_You don’t have to ask. I’m telling._ He kisses the line of Anakin’s jaw. _I mean, provided there’s room._

_There’s room! There’s so enough room, Obi-Wan, there’s--_

And then Anakin’s mouth is on his, sweet and searing, and there’s only love in Obi-Wan’s heart. No more doubt.

 _I’m not sharing a bunk with Artoo_ , he says. He nuzzles the hot curve of Anakin’s neck. _Just want to make that abundantly clear._

Anakin chuckles, the sound belying the tears that catch Obi-Wan’s cheek. _Mmmmm, ‘course you’re not, Master._ _He snores._

*****

When the moment comes--every day, every day--it’s beautiful because it’s ordinary.

It’s ordinary for them to wake up together, sometimes entwined, sometimes on opposite sides of the bed, but always finding each other in the center as the sun rises for a kiss or a dozen or so many that later breakfast is forgotten in a mad dash to finish the chores.

 _Well, I’m not sorry,_ Obi-Wan will say cheerfully when Anakin huffs about being hungry. _I’d much rather start the day that way. Besides, you’re the one who begged._

Anakin will scowl in the sunshine and drop the now-empty feed bucket at Obi-Wan’s feet. _No, I didn’t. You insisted._

_I insisted after you begged. Now, do you want to help me finish repairing this solar or would you rather stand there being self-righteous? Either’s fine with me._

_I would rather_ , Anakin will say with a snort, backing Obi-Wan against the stone wall by the barn and reaching for the catch of his trousers, _have you shut up so I can do this._

In the afternoons, they go their separate ways for a while. Anakin likes to swim in the lake or laze around in his workshop with Artoo, arguing as much as building, while Obi-Wan prefers to meander around the outer fields or to read in the soft shadows of the gu’un tree until the breezes lure him to sleep. Each to his own.

As the sun begins to slip, there are chores again and then supper on the porch--fish, perhaps, or something pleasantly spicy. And then, as the moon rises and the world around them sighs with the sound of the wild, there is this again, always: skin against skin and soft, urgent sounds, peaking, until each of them falls in its wake.

Somewhere, a new war is waging; it always will be in some part of the galaxy far beyond. But here, together, in their ordinary life they can say _I_ _love you_ every day. Every day.

 _I know_ , the Force whispers, electric in their dreams, in the earth that surrounds them. _I know._


End file.
